


dire wolf grinning at my window

by blacktiewhitenoise



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Compliant, Hotel Sex, M/M, badass newt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:07:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1989225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktiewhitenoise/pseuds/blacktiewhitenoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt runs into Hannibal at a bar in Germany and finds out that, not only is the guy not as dead as he thought, but that he's willing to offer Newt a job as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dire wolf grinning at my window

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter contains sexual content and alcohol consumption.

Newt blinks.

Once, twice, and again for good measure but the scene hasn't changed and he takes a wary look down at the drink in his hands because there's absolutely no way he _isn't_ hallucinating. Except that he saw the bartender pour it in the first place, so there was no way it was drugged, and he hasn't even finished half of it so intoxication clearly isn't the problem.

So he takes another sip, and then another, and then his glass is empty but the dead man sitting at the corner booth across from a— _thankfully_ —unfamiliar woman is still there, and Newt feels panic shoot through him at the thought that he's finally, truly lost his mind. There's no other explanation for it, really, because he'd watched Hannibal Chau get eaten by a kaiju.

Newt turns so that he can't see the corner booth and waves the bartender over because if he's beginning his descent into madness, he sure isn't going to do it sober. There's a morbid curiosity gnawing at the back of his mind, telling him to glance back just once more because maybe this time the man sitting there won't look so much like Hannibal Chau but he keeps his eyes fixed on the counter top in front of him. He's not sure if he could handle the truth.

And out of sight, out of mind, as they say.

Of course, it doesn't really put the situation out of his mind, just makes it a bit easier to blatantly ignore, thinking about it while telling himself not to think about it.

He taps his fingers anxiously against the counter top, keeping a beat that doesn't quite match up to the tempo of the quiet rock music emanating from a set of speakers above the bar. His focus skips between the bartender who's chatting amiably with someone a few feet away and the corner booth where he watches the man who can't be Hannibal Chau from the corner of his eye, grappling for some sort of logical explanation. And in some messed up way it  _does_ make sense. There are consequences from the Drift, of course there are, so why would it be so far fetched to begin to experience hallucinations involving Chau—the guy he interacted with just after hooking his brain up to spare parts? 

Loathe as he is to admit it, the situation  _does_ make logical sense.

He finishes off his beer, his stomach turning because of anxiety and fear and drinking on an empty stomach, deciding that two is his limit for the night. 

But then he senses someone take a seat beside him, shoulders nearly brushing as the man sits on the neighbor ing bar stool. Newt doesn't have to look to know who it is but he looks anyway, encouraged by a cold curiosity that sends an uneasy chill down his spine. The golden smile he receives is hauntingly familiar, and he feels overwhelmed because there's no way in the world any hallucination could be so distinctly detailed.

Somehow, Hannibal Chau had survived.

“Funny runnin' into you here, kid.” Hannibal says as though it's just a silly coincidence that hadn't convinced Newt of his own insanity.

A wave of nausea hits him at the vague familiarity, sudden and strong, and he's barely even aware of his own feet taking him down the hallway to the restroom, a ringing in his ears as he flings himself into the closest empty stall and falls to his knees.

Drinking on an empty stomach was such a bad idea. Why did beer have to be so gross?

Some part of his awareness acknowledges the footsteps that follow him into the bathroom, the click-clack pausing just outside the stall. “You alright there, kiddo?” Hannibal Chau asks with what sounds like genuine concern, but Newt can't immediately answer.

He tries not to acknowledge Chau as he opens the stall door after flushing the toilet, moving to the sink and cupping his shaking hands beneath the faucet to wash his mouth out. He looks up at Hannibal in the mirror, unable to tell whether or not the man is returning his stare because of those goddamned glasses. “So, uh, either you're alive or I'm crazy.” He says after a moment, sniffing as he cuts off the stream of water. After another beat he turns, looking up at Chau almost shyly.

“Relax kid, you're not crazy.” Hannibal says, his laugh echoing off the walls. “Well, you are. But I ain't a hallucination.”

“That sounds exactly like something a figment of my imagination _would_ say.” Newt mutters in return, running a shaky hand across his face. He tries to smile but his breathy laugh comes out humorless. “So I think you need to back up your argument with some solid evidence. Or something.”

“How about we get something in your system that _isn't_ alcohol. I saw a diner around the corner, food's on me.” Hannibal claps Newt gently on the shoulder, large hand lingering for a few seconds before giving a squeeze and withdrawing entirely.

Newt considers the offer. He's not usually one to turn down free food, and eating something probably would help him think a bit more clearly.

He grabs his jacket from the bar stool on the way out, pulling it on and zipping it before they're even out the door. It will occur to him later that he forgot to pay for his drinks, but for now he's too preoccupied with nervously pulling at the lint lining his pockets. There are a million questions racing though his mind as he falls into step with Hannibal, staring down at the man's shoes in a daze. It's a calm night, if a bit chilly, and there's a siren wailing in the distance somewhere that Newt focuses on to tether him to reality.

“I never got to congratulate you for saving the world.” Hannibal says, breaking the silence that had settled over them. They pass a bakery, the scent of warm pastries winding around them as they walk across the patch of light that spills from the window.

“The Jaeger pilots did most of the work.” Newt gives a small shrug.

“Don't sell yourself short, you risked your life. Twice, if I remember correctly.”

Newt swallows, somehow unable to work up his normal rockstar attitude about his role in saving the world. Maybe because, up until ten minutes ago, Hannibal had been one of the casualties. “I didn't drift alone that second time, which is probably why my brain didn't get melted. Saving the world was a team effort.”

“Well I'm glad you ended up with your fresh kaiju brain in the end.” Hannibal stops walking and it takes Newt a few seconds to realize that they've reached the diner. The taller man opens the door, waiting for Newt to walk inside before following him in.

Newt mutters a quick ' _thanks_ ' as the door closes behind them. The waitress flashes them a bright smile and tells them, in German, that they can sit wherever they'd like, so Newt leads the way to a booth by one of the windows. “Do you even understand German?” he asks as Hannibal takes a seat across from him, their knees just barely brushing underneath the table.

“I understand the basics. Enough to know when someone's trying to pull the wool over my eyes during business transactions.”

“So you're here on business?”

“Why else would I be in Germany?”

“That's what I was wondering.”

The waitress comes by to place menus in front of them, raising an eyebrow at their use of English before asking them what they'd like to drink.

“Wasser, bitte.” Newt responds, eyes scanning the menu for anything that sounds the least bit appealing. He's still a bit woozy, still overwhelmed by the fact that Hannibal Chau is alive, and he looks up as the crime lord orders a coffee.

“Danke schön.” the older man calls as the waitress walks away and Newt can only shake his head in disbelief.

“So how did you survive? I believe you still have yet to prove to me that you're not a hallucination.” He comments, returning his gaze to the menu. It's not like he can make eye contact, anyway, with Chau's dark lenses in the way.

“The fact that I just interacted with that waitress should probably be a pretty good indicator.”

“Fair point. But I've spent the past six months under the impression that you were dead, dude. It takes a total badass to survive something like that.”

“Well here I am, a total badass.” Hannibal quips and Newt catches the smirk out of the corner of his eye. “Given that the kaiju was just a newborn, its blood wasn't as toxic as that of an adult and I was able to cut my way out.  Little bastard did some damage, though.” 

Hannibal doesn't elaborate, so Newt doesn't ask. “Jesus.  And you, what? Just continue with business as usual?”

“Well, thanks to you guys, business is even better than ever. We can sell lower quantities of product, but the people will pay double—even  _triple_ what we used to charge.  Supply and demand. Funding the  PPDC was probably the best investment I've ever made.”

“Has anyone been studying the specimens you have? You know, before you end up selling everything?” 

“I have a few guys on the job.” Hannibal slides his menu to the side and gives Newt an obvious once over through his glasses, intimidating despite his relaxed posture. “What'sa matter Geiszler, you jealous?”

Newt doesn't even pretend that he isn't.  “Um,  _duh._ I was mostly asking because it would be a shame to sell everything off without collecting as much data as possible but I'm a kaiju scientist who no longer has any kaiju to study. It sucks.”  He pauses, then adds, “I mean, it's great that the Earth is safe. Obviously. But it's like...there's this entire other dimension that we just got a miniscule glimpse at, y'know? And we're never going to get another look at it. This is all we're ever going to know about that other universe, and that's kind of a bummer  because there are still so many unanswered questions.”

Hannibal regards him for a moment,  letting Newt's words sink in for a while. “So what are you doin' in Germany?”

Newt shrugs.  "I went to London with my lab partner first but he has a wife and I kinda felt like I was hindering his attempt to rebuild his life. And I mean, I grew up in Germany so it seemed like the most natural second choice.  I guess you could say I'm trying to find a sense of purpose.”

“And have you found one?”

Newt lets out a breathy, humorless laugh. “Not quite. But the scenery is nice, so I'm not complaining.” The waitress comes by and sets their drinks on the table, writing down their orders quickly before scurrying off again. Newt's pretty sure it's because Hannibal is a pretty scary dude, but he can't be certain. “And in any case, I think I've earned a year or so off.”

“I'll say.” Hannibal  agrees with a chuckle,  stirring sugar into his coffee before laying the spoon on his napkin and bringing the cup to his lips.  "You know, I'm always looking for people who know what they're doing in a lab. You said yourself that you're a kaiju scientist without a purpose.”

Newt pulls his lips into a thin line. Is Hannibal for real? Even if he is, Newt's not sure what working with the guy would actually entail, given that his dealings involve large chunks of the black market. “I, uh.” He hesitates, mouth closing with a snap. “Are you being serious, dude?”

“Why wouldn't I be? You're a goddamn expert. And seein' as how you're one of two people who've actually gotten a glimpse of that universe, it only makes sense to hire you.”

“Let's say I  _did_ accept your offer,”  Newt swallows, excitement slowly bubbling from his core. Hannibal's dealings may not be legal, per se, but the guy built himself an empire out of tragedy and it's admirable. And kinda hot. Okay, really hot, but that's not relevant. “What would that mean for me.”

“I'd put you in charge of research. You'd get free reign of the kaiju pieces I have available plus a lab space and underlings to boss around.  But you don't have to decide right now, kid. You've had a helluva night, just think about it.”

“You've certainly changed your tune since the last time we saw each other. Who would have thought the guy who tried to kill me upon our first meeting would later be offering me a job.” 

“I never tried to kill you. Threatened, yes. But no attempt was ever made.”

“Whatever, you were like three seconds away from slicing my nose off, that's close enough.”  Newt chuckles. The bizarreness of the situation isn't lost on him,  but he may as well roll with it. Hannibal's a pretty cool dude.  "But I  _do_ appreciate the offer,  and  I'll consider it.”

"I wouldn'ta actually sliced off your nose. But in my experience, there are two types of people who come around asking questions: the ones who are harmless and the ones who are a threat.”

“And what? I didn't seem like a threat?”

“Well you hardly seemed like someone who was going to tear my business down from the inside.”  Hannibal takes another sip of coffee. “But you also don't seem like the type to frequent seedy bars and yet here we are.”

“Hey first of all, that bar wasn't even seedy, dude. And I don't ' _frequent_ ' them. I can, however, appreciate the appeal of cheap alcohol and an easy lay.” Newt feels only a little bit embarrassed about revealing a part of his personal life, but he's merely telling the truth.

"In that case I certainly hope I didn't interrupt your plans for the evening.” Hannibal remarks, and Newt gets a bad idea.

“You did, but...I mean, my plans don't necessarily need to have changed? I don't want to be presumptuous or anything, because I don't even know if you, uh. You know.”

“What? If I'm into fucking guys?” Hannibal smirks at the look on Newt's face, lifting a hand to brush his thumb lightly against Newt's cheek. “Hmm, I dunno. You think you'd be able to keep up with me, Geiszler?” There's a challenge in his voice that Newt can't ignore, breath catching.

"I can try."

 

* * *

 

 

 The doors of the hotel elevator barely have time to slide closed before Newt finds himself pressed against the metallic gold wall, handrail pressed almost uncomfortably against his lower back. Hannibal towers over him, hands on either side of his head as he leans close but not not close enough, breath ghosting across Newt's ear and sending electricity through the scientist's blood. “You sure you're down for this, kid?” He asks, his voice pitched low as one of his hands plays with the hair at the nape of Newt's neck.  


Newt let out a frustrated huff because, save for that one hand, they aren't touching.  “ _God,_ yes.”  He purrs, trying in vain to press himself closer to the body in front of him. He doesn't even care that they're in an elevator. If he wasn't sure they were en route to a hotel room, he'd probably be willing to just go at it right there where anyone could discover them.

Hannibal certainly brings out a different side of him.

"Patience is a virtue.”  The man rumbles  with a laugh, hands skirting Newt's hips, thumbs  barely tucking underneath the hem of his jacket.

And then he takes a step back, breaking contact completely.

Newt belatedly realizes that the elevator has stopped and that the doors are sliding open, breathlessly following Hannibal into the hallway.  He mourns the loss of closeness, heart fluttering wildly as they walk together to the room. Hannibal's hands are steady as he pulls a keycard out of his wallet, swiping it through the electronic lock  in one swift move. 

Newt pounces  the moment the door clicks shut behind  them, pushing Hannibal until  his back is against the wall,  impressed that the man actually gives ground.  He has to stand on his tiptoes to reach Hannibal's lips but it lets him lean in closer, their bodies pressed almost impossibly close.  Newt can't even remember the last time he was so turned on.  "Can I be honest with you for a moment?” He questions, voice  rough against Hannibal's mouth.

“Go for it.”

Newt can feel Hannibal's  low chuckle rumble through his chest and he bites his lower lip, breath hitching.  "You're basically like this huge criminal underworld type of guy, right, and it's gonna sound pretty stupid but this is seriously straight out of some of my crazy teenaged fantasies. Fancy hotel, dangerous criminal, the whole shebang.  It's like something out of a Tarantino flick and that's hot."

"Do you think I'm dangerous, Newton?” Hannibal asks,  amused.  His voice is quiet.

"Obviously.  But that's what I like about you. Like," Newt pauses to  lick his lips, stitching together his jumbled thoughts into a coherent statement. "Like, hypothetically speaking, had circumstances been a little different,  I totally would have blown you for that kaiju brain.  But I mean, all hell was breaking loose and then you were  _eaten,_ so it's not like blowjobs would have been convenient at all. But let the record show that the thought  _did_ cross my mind. At least twice." Newt  presses kisses to Hannibal's jaw before circling back to his lips. "You're fuckin' hot, dude.”

And then it's him with his back to the wall, Hannibal's large hands gripping his hips as  he leans down to bit at Newt's lip.  "You think so?"

Newt smiles against Hannibal's mouth, reaching up to take off the man's glasses. “I do. Let me see you.”

“You don't want to look at an ugly old bastard like me.”

Despite his words, Hannibal makes no move to stop Newt as he reaches up for the coke bottle glasses. He does, however, brush a hand up the front of Newt's chest, fingers finding the zipper of his jacket and inching it lower until Newt can shrug it off. It falls gracelessly to the floor with Hannibal's glasses in the pocket, forgotten immediately as Newt pulls Hannibal down for another searing kiss.

He can feel Hannibal's fingers at the collar of his shirt, clumsily tugging at the buttons, and he realizes with a wave of self-consciousness that Hannibal had probably never seen his tattoos before. They'd been enough to scare away potential bed partners on multiple occasions, and Newt is _definitely_ too turned on to go down that road right now, _especially_ with Hannibal.

But maybe, out of everyone, Hannibal would be one to appreciate them as the art that they are.

His shirt is falls open and Hannibal pulls back, breaking the kiss so he can shove the shirt off Newt's shoulders. Out of habit, Newt braces himself for a negative reaction.

Hannibal trails his fingertips down Newt's chest with a sharp inhale. He traces the lines of color with a look of wonder. “Jesus, Newt.” The shirt joins the jacket on the floor, Hannibal's hands following the ink until he reaches the waistband of Newt's jeans. For a few long seconds the only sound that can be heard is their harsh breathing, though Newt feels like Hannibal can hear the pounding of his heart. “You're gorgeous, kid. You're a goddamn work of art.” Hannibal's voice is husky as he leans down to press his lips to Newt's collarbone, moving lower and lower until he's on his knees in front of him. “Is this alright?” He asks, fingers hovering over the button of Newt's jeans.

“Ye _ah_ ,” Newt says hoarsely. He lets out an involuntary whimper as Hannibal's lips brush against his hip bones, large fingers inching his pants down inch by inch. He can't even think straight because yeah, _holy shit_ , he's getting a blow job from Hannibal Chau.

He's half sure he's going to wake up back in his shitty apartment to find that the entire night had been a dream.

But part of him knows that this is _happening_ , as improbable as the whole thing is, and he's terrified and excited as Hannibal's tongue circles the head of his cock. Hannibal's mouth is hot and wet and _perfect_ and Newt's pretty sure he forgets the entire English language—as well as most of the German he knows. As Hannibal takes him deeper he can't help but buck forward, legs shaking as his head hits the wall behind him hard enough to be painful.

“Maybe we should take this to the bed?” Newt suggests, his fingers tracing the older man's jaw before reluctantly coaxing him off. He's afraid that this is going to be over too soon, what with the way he feels super-aware of every touch, every movement.

Hannibal makes a noise of agreement as he gets to his feet. He leans in for another kiss, nipping at Newt's lips with golden teeth before pulling away so he can grab Newt's legs and pull him up. Legs wrapped around Hannibal's hips, Newt rolls forward despite the awkward fact that he's only half out of his jeans, biting his own lip almost hard enough to draw blood as he feels the way Hannibal is fully hard against him. It's ridiculously hot, and Hannibal is most definitely better than anyone else Newt could have picked up at the bar tonight.

It's almost overwhelming, the fact that he's having just as much of an effect on Hannibal as Hannibal is on him.

And then Newt's falling onto the plush hotel bed, moving to shuck his jeans the rest of the way off and tossing them to the floor beside the bed. He hears the change tumble out of his pocket but forgets about it as soon as he sees the hungry look Hannibal is directing toward him, heartbeat fluttering in his chest. “It's kinda unfair that I'm naked and you're still dressed.” He mutters, kneeling at the edge of the bed so he can shove Hannibal's jacket off. His hands are shaking when he gets to Hannibal's shirt and he lets out a nervous laugh, letting the man bat his hands away so he can do it himself. “Sorry, I uh. Normally don't get this nervous.”

“Nothin' to apologize for.” Hannibal responds and as his shirt falls to the floor with the steadily growing pile of clothes Newt can see the scars that clearly came from the baby kaiju, though a couple look older and unrelated, and he reaches out to gently brush over them before he realizes what he's doing.

“Jesus, that's pretty brutal. And dude, is that a scar from a bullet?”

“Is it really that surprising? A man in my line of work faces down guys with guns on a weekly basis.”

“God, you're such a badass. C'mere,” Newt grabs Hannibal's hands to pull him onto the bed, kissing him roughly once he's there. For a few long minutes that's all that exists—just a separate universe all to themselves made up of mingling breaths and heated skin—and Newt gets lost in the scent of Hannibal's cologne and the feeling of hands on him everywhere. “So um, I get that this might be kind of a shitty question to ask right now but if I accepted that job offer...?”

“This doesn't change anything, Newt. The offer still stands and this can be a one time only thing if that's what you want. You shouldn't feel obligated to do anything you don't want to.”

Newt swallows because it's sort of a lot to take in. “But, I mean...what if I _didn't_ want this to be a one time thing? What if it turned out that you were so hot that I couldn't help but lust after you, even in the workplace.”

Hannibal pushes Newt until he's lying back against the bed, mouth hovering just over the shell of his ear, knees on either side of his hips. “I don't see how that would be a bad thing,” His lips dance across Newt's jaw. Before he reaches Newt's mouth, he stops to add, “It's all up to you.”

“When do you leave for Hong Kong?” Newt asks. He pulls Hannibal's belt free, tossing it at the floor absentmindedly.

“In the morning.”

“Wow, shit. That's soon.”

“Don't worry, you can make up your mind on your own time. I'll leave you with my number and you can call me when you decide whether or not you want the job. Or whatever.”

“Or whatever.” Newt agrees with a smirk, pulling Hannibal down for another kiss. He has better things to focus on than job opportunities right now.

 

* * *

 

 

When he wakes up in the morning, he's alone in bed.

The rumpled sheets paired with the clothes strewn across the floor reassure him that it hadn't all been some wacky dream, and the thought puts a smile on his face as he sits up with a groan. He's sore in all the best ways, eying the mess of clothes before deciding to take full advantage of the fancy hotel shower while he's here. It's not like he's paying for the room. He drags himself to the bathroom and immediately spots three hickeys in the mirror, hand moving up to his chest so he can trace the bruises. It feels sort of ridiculous to be so giddy because he's not in high school, for God's sake, but he catches himself grinning nonetheless, rolling his eyes at his reflection.

The shower he takes is long and hot. It drives the aches from his bones and stays hot for _oh_ so long, unlike the shower at home. It's shaping up to be a pretty great day and he gathers last night's clothes with a goddamn spring in his step, reaching for his glasses on the bedside table and finding a note tucked beneath them.

There's a phone number, followed by “ _Had to catch an early flight, sorry to leave without saying goodbye._ _Give me a call when you make a decision."_

Newt stares down at the scribbled message for a long time. He kind of already knows what his answer's going to be but part of him is almost afraid to accept the job. It seems like sort of a big leap, the change from “unemployed freelance scientist” to...well, whatever his title would be working for Hannibal, but at the same time, he doesn't really have anything to lose. It's not like he has a huge social circle who'd miss him if he moved, and he doesn't even have that much stuff to haul around.

Worst case scenario, he ends up hating Hannibal and has to move back to Germany. Or anywhere, for that matter, he's a free man with no responsibilities or obligations.

Newt heads out of the hotel with his jacket draped over the back of his shoulder, ridiculously good mood unwavering as he makes the trek back to his apartment. He's tempted to call Hermann just to talk but he knows he'd end up rambling about sex with Hannibal Chau, which would inevitably lead to talking about the job offer and Newt's not sure how well the guy would handle it. He'd probably say something like _"working for a criminal isn't a career, Newton"_ or _"remember how Pentecost clearly told you not to trust that man?"_ so maybe it would be best to avoid that conversation for now.

Newt settles for buying himself breakfast and determining how long he should wait before giving Hannibal Chau a call.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ummm. All mistakes are my own since I was pretty tipsy while writing this.
> 
> This started out as a oneshot that sat unfinished on my computer for ages, but somehow turned into something that's gonna have actual plot??? So that's a thing. I'll update when I can.


End file.
